


Snowy Days and Toasty Nights

by britsmit28



Series: The Trissefer Collection [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Found Family, No Plot/Plotless, POV Multiple, Snow, Snow Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29254230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britsmit28/pseuds/britsmit28
Summary: Yennefer and her family wake to a fresh layer of snow covering the lands. What plans they had are quickly scrapped as the family decides to enjoy the day outside.Basically, I wanted to write Yennefer, Triss, Ciri, Emoria and Clarissa enjoying a snow day together!(Set in the same universe/timeline of 'Show Me How To Build A Home')
Relationships: Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: The Trissefer Collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1518479
Comments: 11
Kudos: 25





	Snowy Days and Toasty Nights

**Author's Note:**

> It snowed last week and I was inspired to write a story about our favorite sorceresses and their three daughters enjoying the day after a snowstorm blows through Vengerburg. There's no plot! Just sweet, wholesome family time! Enjoy!
> 
> (Also: I did not proofread this. I apologize for any errors!)

Triss smiles against Yennefer’s shoulder blade when she hears the door at the end of the hall creak open. The dark-haired woman groans and stirs under their linen sheets, having been awakened by the same noise. Triss pushes up on an elbow and catches a glimpse of gleaming white snow on the narrow window ledge. Crystallized sheets of ice cling to the corners of the glass, reminding Triss of a frozen over lake. 

“Snow day?” she asks, smiling softly at her lover before kissing her bare shoulder. 

“Undoubtedly,” Yennefer answers, eyes still shut against the beautiful, snowy landscape just outside their home. 

Their bedroom door opens then and Emoria rushes across the wooden floor, huffing and puffing with her arms hugged close to her chest. She climbs onto the foot of the bed and crawls to her mothers. Triss shifts back, providing enough space for their daughter to claim. The girl looks up at the redhead, her brown eyes wide, her excitement at the day ahead just barely held at bay. 

“Breakfast first,” Triss says. “Then we’ll go outside.”

“Yessss!”

Yennefer rolls over to the other side, a languid motion like a cat stretching in the sun. “Don’t think you can worm your way out of your lessons though,” she says. “Tissaia will have a fit if she knew we gave you a free day.”

“Aw. But if we don’t tell her….”

The dark-haired woman finally cracks open an eye, the violet iris twinkling in amusement. “She’ll know. Trust me.”

“Yen should know. She tested Tissaia more than enough times at Aretuza.” 

Yennefer rolls her eyes, while Emoria looks back and forth between them, always hungry for another story of the sorceresses’ time as students under Tissaia’s tutelage. When no story comes, the girl leans against the headboard and slips her legs under the cover to escape the cold. Triss twists towards the fireplace in the corner of the room and with a silent spell and a flick of her hand, a new fire burns under the mantle and warms the room. Once the bedroom is nice and toasty, having successfully defeated the cold air that keeps women and young girl under the covers, they climb out of bed, the sorceresses put on their robes and the trio go to check on Ciri and Clarissa. 

“Do you three always sleep like that?” Triss asks. The young witcher sleeps with her arms and legs stretched across the mattress, with her youngest sister perched neatly on top of her chest. 

“No, not really,” Emoria answers. “It’s only when Ciri comes back from a mission.”

“And where do you sleep?” Yennefer asks. 

Instead of answering, their middle child climbs back on the bed, tucking herself under Ciri’s shoulder. Without breaking her snores or opening an eye, the ashen-haired woman hugs Emoria to her. 

“We’re going out in the snow,” Emoria whispers. Ciri snorts and runs a hand down her face. She releases the girl. 

“I’ll join you shortly.” Her joints pop and crack as she stretches her arms and legs, loosening them. Clarissa yawns and slowly blinks one eye, but at the sunlight and noise promptly decides to shut her eye and return to sleep. Emoria slips into her own warm robe, cinching the belt around her waist and trails the sorceresses to the kitchen. Triss doles out their breakfast tasks. Emoria is in charge of chopping vegetables, mushrooms and cheese for their omelettes. Yennefer mixes the eggs and pancake batter and lays out stripes of bacon, while Triss starts fires in the oven and pulls out pans, tossing butter in them before setting them over the open flames. 

Triss took to motherhood as well as she did any other venture that greatly interested her: opening her arms wide and embracing the challenge even when it bucked against her weight. She scooped these three girls up in her arms, holding them closely to her chest and her beating heart. Loving them was easy, even with the growing pains that came with raising two young children. But it didn’t mean their days together were always easy and kind. Clarissa was growing and becoming steadier on her own two feet, sometimes even managing to find her way to spaces that weren’t intended for a baby. So far she had yet to come across anything that would injury her. But Triss and Yennefer worried and kept a closer eye on her. 

And Emoria was as sweet as ever. Inquisitive. Radiant. Though she still had her sullen, moody days. Triss had yet to master how to comfort her daughter on those days. It always fell to Yennefer’s care since the dark-haired sorceress was no stranger to brooding and periods of self-imposed isolation. The pair would sit together in the living room, starting at opposite ends of the couch. But by the day’s end, they sat hip to hip or with Emoria in Yennefer’s lap, while the sorceress read and absent-mindedly brushed her hand down the girl’s hair. 

When Ciri was away for long stretches of time, following her profession’s Path, Triss fretted and worried. She fought against anxious thoughts that tried to convince her the young witcher wasn't gravely injured or worse, dead. She checked in on her other daughters, afraid that something would happen to them while she and Yennefer rested. And when Ciri eventually returned, sporting a new scar and a sheepish smile, Triss would consider begging her oldest daughter to choose another profession for her sanity. She never voiced her concerns. She understood how much being a witcher meant to Ciri. But it was hard assuaging her anxiety every time she watched the ashen-haired woman disappear on the horizon. 

Still, Triss’ days were filled with caring for the girls and loving Yennefer. After a life of strife, separation, senseless conflict, she had finally gotten that peaceful ending that she felt she was deserving of. 

“Morning Mom! Mommy!” Ciri walks in with Clarissa on her hip. She kisses Yennefer’s cheek, the top of Triss’ head and ruffles Emoria’s hair, who playfully swats at her. Breakfast is ready then and they all sit down to eat. As the sorceresses nurse steaming cups of coffee, Emoria goes on and on about how she wishes to spend the day. Triss chuckles to herself when a thought, one of Yennefer’s, crosses her mind and the dark-haired woman accepts Emoria’s lesson for the day will have to wait until tomorrow. 

_It’s only fair,_ Triss thinks, looking at her lover from the corner of her eye. 

_We don’t want to set a precedent._ Though there’s little force behind Yennefer’s argument. _I guess it’s fine this one day._

_That’s the spirit! She’ll love you forever!_

_She already loves me_. Yennefer grins into her mug as she drains the last of coffee, declining with a shake of her head when Emoria tries to refill it. 

After breakfast and cleaning away their mess, the family breaks away to their respective rooms to dress in heavy clothes to prepare for the cold that waits on the other side of the day. Of course Yennefer was prepared for a snowy day such as this. She digs into the closets, pulling out cotton longjohns, one for everyone that she instructs they wear under their clothes. She inspects the girls, sending them back to their rooms to add another shirt or another pair of pants if she deems their attire inadequate for the snow. She even cocks an eyebrow at Triss, causing the redhead to reach for another shirt to wear. When Yennefer finally feels that everyone is properly protected, Triss is sure they’re all wearing at least two or three pounds of clothes. Then comes the mittens and scarves, the heavy boots lined with fur and the coats with hoods to cover their heads. Poor Emoria nearly waddles by the time they leave.

But Yennefer is more familiar with Vengerberg winters. Triss doesn’t miss her fiance’s victorious smile when they step outside just as a violent gush of wind blows over the threshold. No one shivers. Triss feels the force of the wind, but not the cold and she understands why Yennefer insisted on making sure everyone was heavily bundled up. 

Yennefer takes the lead, looking over her shoulder with a twinkle in her dark eyes. “Well, let’s go.”

* * *

Yennefer doesn’t hate winter. Sure she prefers the warm sun on her face and the hours of sunlight during spring and summer. But she doesn’t mind the snow. At first, when it was just her and Triss in her little cottage, she loved snow days because it forced the women to stay inside and make love in front of a fire. Then when they adopted Emoria and Clarissa, she looked forward to being snug and content under a quilt as they all read a book or enjoyed a cup of warm cocoa while fat snowflakes covered the ground. 

She should have anticipated the girls wanting to play outside after a snowstorm covered the land. Emoria and Ciri both thrived outdoors and in a few years, Clarissa will want to keep up with her sisters. 

And she admits there’s something wonderful about her daughters giggling and laughing while running through the snow. Vengerburg was covered under a hefty blanket of snow. It rises to Yennefer’ calves and she and Triss wobble and walk awkwardly as they navigate the snow. Emoria and Ciri plough ahead, unbothered by the weather. And Clarissa giggles and mutters incoherently as she reaches for the bits of snow that float down from the trees. 

She comes out of her thoughts when Triss connects their hands, their fingers automatically lacing together as they have so many times before. 

“Just so you know,” the redhead says with a smile, “if a snowball fight breaks out, I’ll immediately partner with you.”

“You think we could take them?”

“Oh absolutely! We’re undefeated! War heroes no less.”

Yennefer grins and squeezes their hands. Sometimes she closes her eyes and genuinely believes she’ll wake from a dream. She thinks she’ll wander her home, finding empty, cold rooms and feel the haunting memories of her time with Triss, Ciri, Emoria and Clarissa. She hasn’t fully accepted that she and Triss will wed someday soon, though the evidence of their preparation is littered throughout their home. Her dress is discreetly tucked away in a closet she’s forbidden Triss from peeking in, her next date with the tailor quickly approaching. Of course she heeded the redhead’s similar warning when she stowed her own dress away a few weeks ago. 

Her new life is not a dream. When she’s in Triss’ arms, she feels her fiance’s heartbeat, hears her steady breathing, melts into their kisses. And Emoria and Clarissa’s footsteps through the house is not imaginary. (Though the sight of her youngest daughter upright and walking with no assistance is still something Yennefer is growing accustomed to.) Their laughter and their sighs and Emoria’s endless questions are all real in her ears. Yennefer is so indescribably happy. 

They come to a little clearing that’s sliced through the middle by a shallow stream that’s frozen over. There is no snowball fight, something Yennefer is mildly disappointed about. But they all work together to build a snowman, complete with twiggy arms and peddles for eyes and a mouth that’s turned up in a smile. Once the snowman is finished, Emoria suggests building a home for the man to live in. It’s hard work. Harder than Yennefer imagined. As they stack the fourth round of ‘bricks’ she peels off one of her coats and sweeps away the lock of hair that sticks to her sweaty forehead. Triss’ cheeks are a patchy scarlet. But the girls are mostly unphased and even Clarissa joins in by smacking her own misshapen bricks from clumps of snow she clutches between chubby fingers. 

It takes some time and Triss and Yennefer abandon their efforts eventually. The dark-haired sorceress conjures a blanket and infuses it with a spell that keeps the material dry and warm on top of the snow. They watch as their daughter continue working, the redhead smiling with open arms when Clarissa waddles over and flops near their legs. 

Emoria sets the final brick in place and stands back to admire their work. The structure is simple: a dome that arches in the air with a long arm that sticks out and serves as the entrance. The girl drops to her knees and crawls inside, Ciri following closely behind. Intrigued by the complete home, Clarissa pushes up to her feet and stomps her way to the opening, bending slightly so she doesn’t knock her head against the top. 

“Hey,” Triss calls softly, her breath blowing out in a warm puff across Yennefer’s neck. “Think we should go in there as well?” She adjusts her head that rests on her fiance’s shoulder, humming appreciatively when thin fingers thread through her red hair. 

“It’ll be cramp with all of us. Best to let them have this.” She stares at the grey clouds that float over them. They’re heavy with precipitation. No doubt they’ll wake to fresh snow in the morning. 

“You’re probably right,” Triss says. “Besides this blanket is warm.”

“Because of me?”

“And your spellwork my dear.” 

Yennefer pouts, but Triss rises to her elbows to chase it away with a kiss. When they part, Yennefer smiles at the redhead, shy and nervous as if it’s their first kiss. She knows this giddiness will never disappear, no matter how long they are together. She’s grateful she can still experience such emotions around Triss. 

By the time the girls emerge from their snowy cocoon, Emoria marches up to the sorceresses and announces that she’s hungry. Their hearty breakfast had burned away during their trek through nature and the time spent playing in the snow. 

“There’s a small inn not far from here,” Yennefer says, sitting upright and crossing her legs at the ankles. “Let’s go there for a meal.” She glances up at the darkening sky, mildly afraid they would find themselves stranded outside when the next snowfall began. But the inn is only a half mile journey from where they currently are. Worst come to worst, they’ll rent a room for the night. 

Ciri, Emoria and Clarissa all bid the snowman goodbye, while Triss and Yennefer watch with small smiles. 

_We should get a manor that sits on acres of land,_ Triss thinks, catching Yennefer’s eye. 

The dark-haired sorceress fights back a frown. _But it’s a chore tending to such acreage_. She shudders, briefly recalling the hours spent under a baking sun seeing to the pigs as her father instructed. She can’t deny living somewhere with an open field would be good for their family. Ciri could train without fear of drawing unwanted attention or unintentionally hurting someone. Emoria loves assisting Triss in the garden and the extra land would give them more space to grow vegetables and flowers as they pleased. And adventurous Clarissa would be allowed to roam as freely as she’d like. With supervision of course. 

It sounds lovely. But Yennefer doesn’t want to wrestle with pigs ever again. 

_No pigs,_ Triss thinks, taking her hand. _Maybe some chickens for fresh eggs. And a small stable for our horses. And a cow for milk. I’ll even commission a carpenter to build you the perfect chaise so you can sit under the shade and read._

As pleasant as the image is, Yennefer won’t leave all the duties to Triss and Emoria’s hands. She’s no gardener. But she can care for the animals and watch over Clarissa whenever she tries to sneak into the surrounding forest. 

_Fine. So long as you promise to grow strawberries. Oh and apples._

_For your fresh apple juice? Of course._

* * *

Yennefer mentioned ‘an inn’ a short walk from where they were. But all Triss sees in a small home that only has a few rooms between its walls. It’s cozy though and warm. In the middle of the room sits a rectangular stone pit with red and orange fiery tendrils that flick and peek over the top of the stones. A circle of stools surround the pit, a few currently sagging under the weight of patrons enjoying a turkey leg or cup of ale by the fire. Dried sage, tied together at the stem, hang from the rafters, the aroma wafting through the room. The wooden walls are painted with small murals of wildflowers, rabbits, and deers grazing by a brook. 

Yennefer pulls them to one of the few tables in the room and they settle around a wooden table with a candle in the middle. They shed their coats with a collective exhale, flexing their fingers to fight off the lingering chill that followed them inside. The inn’s matron greets them, her silvery hair braid behind her head and reaching down to her hips. Her yellow blouse is tucked into a flowy navy skirt that’s held in place by a leather belt. 

“What’ll you have?” she asks, her voice reminding Triss of a flash summer rainstorm. 

“A flagon of mulled cider,” Yennefer says. “And some juice for the young ones. Then if you have a pot of that drunken beef stew that you’re known for, I’d be absolutely delighted.”

The matron departs with a nod of her head, returning quickly with short goblets and the pitcher of cider and juice to share. The first sip warms Triss’ stomach, reaching up and spreads across her chest. She shuts her eyes to enjoy the sensation. 

“Did it snow at Aretuza?” Emoria asks, breaking the silence. 

“Not often. Though our winters were just as cold as those in Vengerburg,” Triss answers. Yennefer nods into her cup. “I suspect there were charms around the school that blocked out the elements.”

“I can’t imagine Tissaia enjoying the snow very much,” Ciri adds. 

Triss chuckles, picturing Tissaia scowling at the falling snowflakes that cover the academy’s grounds. Or cursing softly under her breath as she buries herself under bundles of cloaks, scarves and mittens before stepping out her room. Yennefer snorts into her mug, smiling from the images in the redhead’s thoughts. 

When the stew arrives, the matron ladles healthy portions into smaller bowls and set them in front of the hungry women. Thick cuts of beef, slices of carrots and onion pearls float in a brown sauce that has a hint of sweetness to it. The family eat silently, tending to their own thoughts during the meal. They finish the first serving and the matron graciously brings over another before the sorceresses can ask. They slurp up the second serving of stew, soaking slices of bread in it to drink up the sauce. 

By the time they’re finally finished and their bowels pushed away, nearly all eyelids are heavy with a strong desire to rest. Twilight breaks away to dusk rich with deep violets and blues, though the stars are hidden behind the clouds. Triss is far too content and warm to venture outside again and sees a similar sentiment reflected in Yennefer’s eyes. The dark-haired woman rises and goes to speak to the matron, gesticulating with her hands as they converse. Minutes later, she returns to the table. 

“There are rooms overhead. Lucky for us, there is a modest suite that’s large enough for all of us. And I’ve paid for a bath.” 

“Can we stay down here for a bit longer?” Emoria asks. 

Triss scans the room. What few patrons were in the room when they first arrived, had quietly slipped out until it was just the matron, two other travelers and the little family. She doesn’t see what would preoccupy the girl. Maybe it’s the excitement of ‘living’ somewhere new, no matter how temporary it is. 

“I’ll stay with her,” Ciri offers, seeing the doubt in the sorceresses’ eyes. The witcher reaches into a pouch on her belt and pulls out a deck of Gwent cards. “I got some new cards during my travels. Let’s play some rounds.”

Triss takes Clarissa in her arms, the toddler asleep despite the excitement circulating between her older sisters, and follows Yennefer out a back door to a set of steps connected to the exterior. They climb to a narrow landing and enter a room at the end of the landing. The fire roars to life in the hearth, the soft light illuminating a modest living room furnished with a wooden table, chairs, a plush sofa in front of a window and a small desk. There are two doors, one each at opposite ends of the room, that lead to bedrooms. 

A knock on the door breaks the silence and a young man enters with a wooden tub, a cauldron of water, which he sets on an iron railing over the fire and a tray of scented salts for the bath. 

As Triss helps Clarissa out of her clothes and prepares the bath, Yennefer uses magic to conjure a wardrobe of clothes, plush pillows and warm furs to drape the beds. By the end, there’s a touch of homeiness to the room. 

“You know,” Triss begins as she dips the toddler into the water, “we could always live in the mountains. Just imagine waking up to fresh snow nearly every day!”

“Sounds terrible,” Yennefer says with a smile. She gathers her dark locks into a ponytail and kneels besides the tub to help. “The cold would slip through the cracks at night. Our skin would be so dry. And we’re not young anymore. Imagine the pain in our joints.”

“We’re not decrepit.” She chuckles. 

“Speak for yourself. I believe I have a decade on you.”

“More like half a decade, if that. And you’re still as spritely and vivacious as when I first met you.” 

“Are you flirting with me?” Yennefer asks with mock outrage. 

“Yes! I hope to earn a kiss for my efforts.”

The dark-haired woman grins and doesn’t resit, when Triss rises up on her knees, leans across the tub and presses her lips against Yennefer’s cheek. The other sorceress turns at the last second and their lips brush together. 

“Does this mean we’re moving to the mountains?” Triss asks. 

Yennefer arches an eyebrow. “No. But nice try.”

“Then how about somewhere along the coast? We can teach the girls to swim. They’ll get plenty of sunlight. You’ll have your seasonal cold and warm weather. At night, we’ll sneak to the beach to stargaze and enjoy wine from Geralt’s collection.” 

“Sounds lovely,” the dark-haired woman says. “But I find I don’t truly care where we end up. So long as we’re all together, everything sounds lovely.”

“Even the mountains….”

“Well I’ll need to be convinced.”

“I can do that.”

Clarissa smacks the water, sending droplets into the air. It splashes onto the sorceresses and both women squeal and chuckle alongside the child. 

After Clarissa is clean, dressed in warm clothes and tucked into bed, the sorceresses pull the tub into the other bedroom, pour fresh water and strip out of their clothes. Triss slides in first and Yennefer settles between her legs, her head landing on Triss’ shoulder. The redhead starts to drift to sleep, but wakes when her body trembles from Yennefer’s laugh. 

“What is it?”

“It’s snowing again,” the dark-haired woman comments. 

Blinking to clear away the crude in her eyes, Triss looks out the window and sees that heavy flakes are once again falling to the ground. It’ll last all night and they’ll wake to several inches or a fresh foot of snow. “We’ll be snowed in.” 

Yennefer takes her hand and kisses the center of her palm. “That doesn’t seem so bad.”

“No it doesn’t,” Triss whispers into her hair. She inhales the hints of lilac and gooseberries. Her eyes slide shut again and a smile softens her features as Yennefer continues planting chaste kisses in her palm. 

* * *

“Mom? We’re back.”

Yennefer rolls to her other side and cracks open an eye. The fire in the hearth provides a soft halo of light that surrounds Ciri who peeks into the bedroom. “Tub’s over there,” Yennefer says, pointing to the corner of the room. “In case you or Emoria want a bath.”

“We can wait until the morning.”

The sorceress hears a tiny ‘ _yes, in the morning._ ’ 

It’s late. Probably close to midnight. Triss and Yennefer bathed and slipped into their own gowns for the evening, their last bit of energy draining away with the dirty water poured out the window. They checked in on Clarissa to make sure she was okay, then crawled into their own bed, whispering a sleepy ‘good night’ to each other. 

“Who won the most Gwent rounds?” Triss asks. She slides back to cuddle into Yennefer’s side, but stays facing the wall. 

‘ _I did.’_

“Emoria,” Ciri admits with slumped shoulders. 

“You can redeem yourself tomorrow,” Yennefer says. 

_‘Or I can win again._ ’

“Or your sister can win again.” She hears a cheeky laugh in response. Yennefer yawns, eager to return to sleep. “We’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

Emoria slips in and kisses the sorceresses on their heads. Ciri does the same. 

“Good night sweet girls,” Triss says. 

The door closes softly behind them and the girls cross the living room to the other bedroom where Clarissa slumbers. Yennefer rolls to her other side, pulling Triss flush against her once again. She peers out the window and sees the snow falling harder than before. 

“Another snowy day awaits us in the morning,” she whispers.

“Let’s have a Gwent tournament then.”

“What will I get when I win?”

Triss giggles. “Don’t be cocky.” 

“I have reason to be. I taught Emoria and can best her. You’ll see tomorrow who is the best.” 

“I’ve won against Geralt and he’s played with talented players across the lands. So I think _you_ should consider what to get _me_ when I win tomorrow.”

Geralt is a formidable player and Yennefer struggled to beat him. If Triss won against the witcher, then maybe the dark-haired woman may have cause to be nervous.

“I love leaving you speechless,” the redhead murmurs. “Good night my love.” 

Yennefer scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Good night and sweet dreams. I look forward to breaking your win streak come morning.”

They both share a laugh and all too soon, the sorceresses drift to sleep as the fire crackles in the heart and the land surrounding the Vengerberg settles under the snowy blanket that falls from the sky. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll return with another story when I can. Take care!


End file.
